"Hello?" Pamela answered the phone from her desk at work.
"It's me," The familiar voice replied.
"I'm busy," she said, trying to block the memory from Monday night's blowjob out of her mind.
"This Friday at my place... eight o'clock. You'll be getting a package at work today. Wear what's in it."
"What are you talking about, Paul. We had a deal. All that's left is for you to help me hide my identity better."
"Sorry, I lied," he said. She didn't hear any remorse in his voice.
"I... I can't," she said. "I feel guilty enough already."
"You don't have a choice."
Pamela's stomach knotted up. She felt like she was going to throw up. 'Have I really become that naΓ―ve, after just three years with the saints?' she thought. 'I actually believed I could trust people again.'
"Hello?" he asked.
"I'm here. I'm thinking." Pamela knew she didn't have many options. She could either refuse him and deal with whatever shame came with the revelation of her former life or she could give in to his demands and hope he kept his promise this time. If it was only her reputation on the line she'd tell him to 'fuck off,' but she couldn't imagine putting her husband through the public circus that was sure to follow, not only locally but nationally when the word got out.
"You've fucked me over once, Paul," she said, reverting back to her porn star vernacular. "How do I know you aren't going to fuck me over again?"
"I'll have a contract for you, Friday. It will stand up in a court of law if I try to break it."
"This isn't the way I envisioned this going down," she replied.
"Sorry to disappoint you Pamela, but I can't let the chance of a lifetime with Sierra Gold slip away."
"Fuck-off, Paul."
She slammed the phone down and buried her head in her hands. 'I hope to hell I can get out of this.'
X x x x x x x x x x x x
"Package for, Pamela Jennings."
Pamela looked up to see the familiar UPS brown uniform.
"That's me," she said, reaching out to sign his handheld device.
She opened the package, careful not to expose it to anyone who might come walking through the office foyer.
The note inside was brief: WEAR THE ENCLOSED FRIDAY
She pulled out the first item. It was a wig, which looked like a replica of her old hair doo, long, straight and blonde. The next item was a black g-string. The last item was a black lace bra. Stuffing the items back in the package, she pondered which long coat she would have to wear to cover her on the trip over to Paul's house.
X x x x x x x x x x x x
The next two days flew by. Pamela tried to act normal at both work and home. Fortunately her husband was busy with church activities on Wednesday night and Thursday was one of his primary sermon preparation days. She told John she was going to have a "girl's sleep-over" with one her friends in the church. Fortunately for her, her husband was as naΓ―ve as she had become in her post porn years. 'Lesson learned,' she thought. 'Always be on guard for deception.'
She gave John a kiss and headed out the door in jeans and a conservative top. She had put the package and a coat in her car trunk earlier in the day. "Love you!" she yelled over her shoulder.
"You too!" she heard him reply.
Halfway to Paul's house Pamela pulled into a gas station with an outside bathroom. She stripped off her clothes and put the skimpy black panties and bra on. Next she pulled the wig onto her head and adjusted it in the mirror. The reflection looking back at her brought back many memories. Her nipples stiffened through the thin material as she admired her flat stomach and deep cleavage. 'You've still got it,' she smiled at herself. After folding up her clothes and sticking them in her duffel bag, she pulled out her make-up bag. The first step was to remove her tinted contacts. As she looked back in the mirror to apply the mascara and hot pink lipstick, bright blue eyes replaced the brown ones from a few minutes ago.
'This has to end tonight, no matter what,' she thought, as she put everything away and slipped on a long trench coat. It was a little peculiar to have on a coat this length in the fall, but she didn't think it would raise too many eyebrows if anyone happened to see her walking from the bathroom to her car.
She looked at her watch as she threw the bag into her trunk. '7:15... I've got fifteen minutes."
X x x x x x x x x x x x x
She felt like an overseas hooker on the streets of Naples, trolling along in her trench coat for sailors just off their ship. No one was outside in the around surrounding Paul's house. She knocked on the door and it was opened a few seconds later.
Paul opened the door and smiled when he saw Pamela dressed up as her former self - Sierra Gold. "Come on in."
Sierra looked around at the normal looking middle class family room.
"You can keep your coat on," he said.
"Nothing's happening until I see an ironclad contract," she replied.
"No problem, it's right over here in the dining room," he said, leading the way.
A glass of red wine sat next to a stack of papers. "That's your glass for while you're reading."
Pamela sat down and took a sip of the wine before looking down at the contract.
"I'll save you some time," Paul said, "The contract says that I'm going to video our time tonight and I have the exclusive rights to whatever I shoot. In return your identity is kept secret. I help you protect it from anyone else and you get to go on with your life."
"What the hell type of deal is that?" she cried out.
"It's a deal that gives you your life back."